


Inward Spiral

by NoOneKnowsIWriteThis



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Westworld Fusion, Basically Jed and Octavius meet in different loops and keep forgetting but they fall in love anyway, Getting Together, Look the movie had a Romeworld it wrote itself, M/M, Memory Loss, No Spoilers for Westworld, Past Lives, This is probably the softest happiest Westworld fic ever, Worldbuilding, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis/pseuds/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis
Summary: "Jed, do you believe in past lives?"Jedediah was quiet for a moment, considering, before he replied "Supposin' I do?"-Jedediah and Octavius were Hosts in two different parks, and yet they kept meeting.
Relationships: Jedediah/Octavius (Night at the Museum)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Inward Spiral

**Author's Note:**

> You don't need to know anything about Westworld for this fic beyond the basics:  
> There's a set of theme parks where guests (aka Newcomers) can interact with super realistic androids (aka Hosts). Hosts are on schedules that loop after a few days and their memories are reset after each loop and when they die.

_ “So you want me to just stick them in Romeworld?” _

_ “Do you have any better ideas? Look, we’ve got a bunch of Hosts from Westworld displaced because of some remodeling. Weren’t you complaining about having some story ideas you wanted to test out, but you couldn’t convince the higher ups to give you any new Hosts for anything outside of the colosseum? Well, here’s some you can use to test things out, get data you can use to argue your case better.” _

_ “Fine.” _

—

_ “Alright, Jedediah, let’s see what I can do with you. Hmm… I think I’ll put you with General Octavius. He could use some rounding out, something besides just being a good general with a flair for melodrama.” _

—

Octavius’s morning was routine. He woke up, his slave assisted him in dressing and donning his armor, then he went to oversee how his troops were doing. Once they’d begun drilling, Octavius returned to his tent and received reports from messengers and scouts. Everything continued on in the usual fashion until Octavius had managed to clear enough of his duties that he had time for a walk through camp.

Octavius liked going for walks. They gave him a chance to clear his head and get away from his responsibilities for a moment. Plus they let him see things for himself that he might otherwise miss. Which was how he stumbled upon the incident unfolding before him.

One of his soldiers had grabbed Octavius’s slave by the arm and was leering at him in a way that made his intentions very clear. Octavius’s slave’s discomfort was equally clear, and while he was trying to calmly talk his way out of the situation, he was also growing more and more agitated.

“Come on,” the soldier coaxed. “It won’t take long at all. The general won’t even notice you’re gone.”

“I’m already running late,” the slave lied quickly. “He’s probably noticed already.”

“Then you can be a bit later,” the soldier argued back, attempting to pull the slave with him.

It was at this point that Octavius decided to intervene. He stepped forward and loudly proclaimed “Ah, there you are, I was wondering what had delayed you.”

The soldier released the slave like he’d suddenly realized he was holding a cobra and the slave gazed upon Octavius with relief.

“Come along,” Octavius ordered as he walked through the duo. “I have need of your services.”

The slave fell into line behind Octavius while the soldier slunk away, although Octavius had already made note of his face. He would be reprimanded later.

Once they were safely in Octavius’s tent, the general turned to the slave. The man’s blue eyes looked unsure as he waited for the general to speak.

“Are you alright?” Octavius asked. When the slave nodded, Octavius continued. “I’ll make it painfully clear to that soldier that he is not to touch you. You may belong to me, but you are also under my protection, and he should know better than to trifle with me and mine.” Octavius paused and took a moment to subdue his angry expression. Possessiveness wouldn't help in this moment, not when he was trying to reassure this man.

As the slave began to relax, Octavius smiled. “What’s your name?” he asked gently.

—

Octavius’s morning was routine.

And yet, for some reason, he kept thinking his slave should have had blue eyes instead of gray.

—

_ “Do you have any plans for this Host?” _

_ “What, General Octavius? Nah. His soldiers are off as part of some big event battle, so he’s stuck here with nothing to do until that’s over with.” _

_ “Can I borrow him?” _

_ “I guess, but why do you need to? Aren’t you Westworld guys our main attraction? Why can’t you just get a new Host made for your story?” _

_ “That requires getting approval from the higher ups, and they usually only approve the flashier stuff, you know? Sex and violence. They don’t have any appreciation for the softer detail work that makes the world feel  _ **_real._ ** _ It’s way easier to get them to agree if you’ve already got something set up and working for months.” _

_ “Alright. Just don’t lose him. I’ll need the general back when this whole event is over.” _

—

August took a moment to take in the town when he stepped off the train. He’d felt too trapped by his family’s plans for him and left England for America, then the call of adventure had pulled him, like so many others, westward. This town would serve as his foothold from which he would make something of himself, outside of the weight of his family's legacy. He strolled down the street and found himself in front of the general store, looking through the window, and for the first moment feeling unsure about his choice.

“Y’ain’t gonna get nowhere just lookin’, pardner,” a man with a jovial tone came up behind August and slammed a hand onto his shoulder.

August turned to look at whoever was accosting him and was met with a beautiful pair of blue eyes.

“You new in town?” the man asked.

It was all August could do to nod.

“Well then, Ol’ Jedediah would be more than happy to show you around, if you like.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” August replied eagerly. “You see, I’m afraid I don’t quite know what to do with myself yet.”

Jedediah grinned and August found himself smiling back. “I know that look, you’re an explorer waitin’ to happen. All you need is a guide to show you the ropes, help you find your footing.”

"Are you offering?"

"Well, I've been plannin’ a little excursion myself. Nothing fancy, just a short trek to check the lay of the land, maybe chat with any natives we run into." Jedediah paused, taking in August's expression. "I'm an all around useful fella to have on hand: guide, map maker, survivalist, gunslinger, you name it. If it keeps you from gettin’ killed outside of Sweetwater, I can do it."

"How much?" August asked breathlessly. "How much do you want to take me with you?"

Jedediah's grin somehow grew. "You let me bunk in your hotel room tonight and the day we get back, and we'll call it even. We'll leave tomorrow, bright and early."

The rest of the day saw August being guided around town by Jedediah as the blond man gathered up what supplies they would need and invited any Newcomers to join their excursion. A few showed interest, but when they prepared to head out the next morning only two met them: an older man whose bag was full of art supplies and a young woman, who was apparently his granddaughter, who seemed a bit unsure about the whole thing.

The expedition itself was unremarkable, but for August it was their guide that made it worthwhile. Jedediah always answered any questions to the best of his ability and had fascinating stories to tell as well. Since one member of their party was something of an artist, Jedediah did his best to lead them to spots that he considered particularly breathtaking, having them wait while the older man sketched the scenery.

During one of these breaks, Jedediah picked up a nearby piece of wood and began to carve it while the young woman chatted with August. After a while she excused herself to check on her grandfather so August, curious, walked over and settled next to Jedediah.

“What are you working on?” he asked, gesturing towards the wood.

Jedediah tilted the piece so that August could get a better look. The wood now bore a circular maze with a human figure in the center of it. When August only gave him a puzzled look, Jedediah began to explain, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“The Maze is a symbol with different meanings, dependin’ on who you ask. Some folks say the Maze represents how everyone eventually circles right back to where they started and you can’t go forward, only deeper. Then there’s the legend that says the fella in the center was killed over and over again, always comin’ back to life. One day he returned and finally beat his rivals, then he built the Maze around his house to keep them from findin’ him again. Then there’s the version popular with the natives, especially the Ghost Nation, which is that the world we’re livin’ in is all fake, a Maze, and we’re the fella trapped in it.”

“Which one do you believe?” August asked quietly.

Jedediah was silent for a moment, considering the question, then answered “I don’t see why all three can’t be true, after a fashion.”

When August slept that night, he dreamt he was a Roman soldier.

—

August took a moment to take in the town when he stepped off the train. He strolled down the street and found himself in front of the general store, looking through the window, and for the first moment feeling unsure about his choice.

“Y’ain’t gonna get nowhere just lookin’, pardner,” a man with a jovial tone came up behind August and slammed a hand onto his shoulder. 

The loop continued as usual, with Jedediah inviting August to join him on an excursion in exchange for August sharing his hotel room with the guide.

That night August dreamt of his own death. He was surprised in his tent by a man who stabbed him over and over. As he died he heard the assassin crow his victory.

He awoke to Jedediah gripping his shoulder and speaking to him like he was a spooked animal.

“Y’alright there?” Jedediah asked softly. “You were writhin' around somethin' fierce.”

August nodded, not trusting himself to speak, only after a moment noticing that his hand was clutching Jedediah’s wrist so tight his knuckles had turned white.

“Apologies,” he mumbled, releasing the other man.

“No harm done,” Jedediah replied. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I… I had a strange dream,” August stated. He shook his head as if to clear it. “It felt real, more like a memory, but it couldn’t have been.”

“Why not?”

“Because I died.”

Jedediah took in a slow breath.  _ “Well…” _

The two stayed in silence for a moment, just thinking, before Jedediah spoke again.

“Y' think it could be a past life?”

“What?”

“Memories of your past lives can slip into your dreams,” Jedediah explained. “Leastways, if you believe in that kinda thing.”

August frowned. “So in a previous life I was a Roman general who was stabbed to death while he slept?”

“Sure.” Jedediah smiled reassuringly at him. “You coulda been any number of things.”

—

This loop would prove different from all the others, not that the Hosts could necessarily know that. This loop none of the guests were interested in Jedediah’s expedition, so it was just the two of them. As they settled beside the fire at their camp for the night, August was struck with a strange sense of deja vu. Jedediah was carving something into a piece of wood, and August leaned in to get a better look.

Jedediah noticed him shifting and turned his handiwork so August could see it. The wood now bore a circular maze with a human figure in the center of it.

“The Maze!” August exclaimed quietly.

“You seen it before, pardner?” Jedediah glanced at August curiously.

August frowned. “I...I must have.” He racked his brain for how he knew that symbol. It had been on an urn in his palace, or graffiti in the colosseum, or… None of his thoughts were making any sense. He was born and raised in England, he'd never been to Italy. His gaze grew distant.

"August?" Jedediah's voice was low. His gloved hand came up and settled on August's shoulder. When August didn't speak, Jedediah dropped what he was holding and cupped the other man’s cheek. “Hey, hey, ya in there, buckaroo?”

Suddenly, August jolted back to life, nearly falling backwards and only stopped by Jedediah’s hand on his shoulder.

“Y’alright?”

August blinked, hard. “Jed?”

“Yep. You with me, August?”

August nodded and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Jedediah’s shoulder and breathing heavily. Jedediah’s arms wrapped around him, securing August against him. Only when August seemed to settle did Jedediah loosen his grip. Slowly, August raised his head, meeting Jedediah's gaze.

"This may sound foolish," August began cautiously, "but I feel like I've known you for much longer than one single day."

Jedediah looked at August curiously. "You  _ sure _ you're okay?"

"Never better." August's words were undercut by the shakiness of his attempted smile. "Jed, do you believe in past lives?"

Jedediah was quiet for a moment, considering, before he replied "Supposin' I do?"

"I think we've met before," August stated plainly. "Before Sweetwater and all this. In another life."

"Oh?"

"I...I'm sure this sounds mad, but I keep having dreams, dreams that feel more like memories, where I'm in Ancient Rome. I'm a general and you're there by my side."

"Fightin' alongside you?" Jedediah asked with a lopsided grin.

August looked away sheepishly. "No. …You were a slave, a barbarian prize of a recent conquest."

After a pause, Jedediah finally spoke. “Y’know most folks I’ve talked to about this had past lives that fit in here well enough. Homesteaders to townsfolk, bandits to lawmen, that kinda thing. You’re only the second I know to have been a Roman.”

“And the first?”

“Me.”

Jedediah’s simple answer had August gaping.

Jedediah gave August a smirk and a teasing wink. "You were a right spoiled thing in Rome, weren't you?"

—

_ “Just between you and me, Octavius, I  _ **_hate_ ** _ Roman names. Worst part of this job, naming all of you. I’ve got to figure out family names and personal names and then half of you need those nicknames and the title names. Ugh. So sometimes I’ll just...use a historical figure’s name. As long as I stay away from the big guys, no one notices. Like,  _ **_you_ ** _ are Gaius Octavius, there were at least five of those of note, and the most famous one is better known as Augustus. So far, no one has ever noticed, and if they have they didn’t complain.” _

_ “You shouldn’t talk to them, you know.” _

_ “Jesus! When did you…?” _

_ “Just now. Anyway, you're not—" _

_ "Not supposed to talk to them, or cover them, or treat them like people. I know. But talking things out helps me think, and it's not like Ford or anyone who cares ever comes down here. Last time one of them visited,  _ **_he_ ** _ was emperor." _

_ "Really?" _

_ "The original plan was to have Romeworld be mainly stable, with the guests causing all the chaos. So I wrote a decent emperor who could make some speeches full of Shakespearean melodrama. Then the higher ups changed their minds. Said he wasn't 'playing well to the guests.' Because apparently all anyone wants to see when they visit Romeworld is violence and gluttony and debauchery. So I had to design a new emperor. A sneering punk with a punchable face.  _ **_Nero_ ** _ meets  _ **_Caligula!_ ** _ And I had to make him  _ **_and_ ** _ revise all the imperial palace plotlines  _ **_by myself_ ** _ in a  _ **_month!"_ **

_ "Wow." _

_ "And old Octavius here got shifted off to some corner of the park to drill legionaries forever. I mean, I tried making him a gladiator for a bit, but the guests wanted scarier looking foes, so…" _

—

Octavius’s morning was routine. He woke up, his slave assisted him in dressing and donning his armor, then he went to oversee how his troops were doing.

And yet he couldn’t shake the previous night’s dream from his mind.

He’d been in an unknown bedroom with a strangely attired, yet still handsome man pressed against him. Their lips locked together as they stumbled towards one of the two single beds.

“‘Diah!” he’d gasped when the man found a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.

The man had just grinned against his skin and continued as he pulled the pair of them onto the bed and the two began to fumble at each other’s clothing.

"No matter what happens," Octavius had vowed as the man lowered his head and focused intently on ridding Octavius of his clothes, "I'll remember this. I'll remember  _ you.  _ I swear it!"

"Less swearin', more  _ doin' _ ," the man urged, tossing his own clothes behind him. "It doesn't matter what we want. But at least we'll've acted for ourselves."

“Jedediah,” he’d murmured, capturing the other’s face between his hands and pulling him up so they were eye to eye. “What we want _does_ matter. And I want nothing more than you.”

Jedediah had paused, clearly deeply touched by his words. Then Octavius had guided him back into a passionate kiss.

Octavius did his best to ignore the dream and stay focused on his duties, but he admitted to himself that he certainly was more distracted than usual.

—

Octavius’s morning was routine. He woke up, his slave assisted him in dressing and donning his armor, then he went to oversee how his troops were doing. Once they’d begun drilling, Octavius returned to his tent and received reports from messengers and scouts. He was in the middle of dealing with these reports when one of his men rushed into the tent.

“Sir! There’s a strange barbarian demanding to speak with you!"

Octavius looked the messenger over.

"He didn't say what he wanted beyond that?"

"He said he would only speak to you, sir."

Octavius frowned but let himself be led to the edge of camp. Several of his soldiers stood on guard closely watching a man in strange attire whose attention was entirely focused on the horse whose reins he was holding.

The soldiers began to make a minor fuss as Octavius approached, but none of that bothered Octavius: he only had eyes for one man.

The noise drew the strange man’s attention and as he turned around, letting Octavius finally get a good look at him, Octavius found himself staring into the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“Jedediah?” he asked in wonder, the word barely more than a breath as it left his lips. Somehow the man from his dreams stood before him.

“Howdy, August, Octavius, Octagon, whatever yer name is now.” Jedediah’s grin was wide and breathtaking.

Octavius hardly noticed his feet carrying him forward, closer to Jedediah, but suddenly they were barely an arm’s length apart and he asked the only question he could think to voice: “How?”

"I just couldn't stay away from you," Jedediah answered sincerely. "One day I woke up, truly woke up, and I… I wanted you. So I set out to find you."

“You absolute marvel,” Octavius said fondly, his own amazed smile spreading across his face. “You magnificent man.”

Jedediah began to take a step forward, but stopped when two of the soldiers approached them.

“Sir!” one called to Octavius. “What do you want us to do?”

Octavius turned sharply towards his soldiers, suddenly thrust back into awareness of his surroundings. He held up a hand to halt them and looked back towards Jedediah.

“Would you like to accompany me into the camp?” he invited. “I can have your horse looked after for you.”

Jedediah ducked his head, hiding his expression below his hat as he replied. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in goin’ on an adventure with me instead,” he countered. “Y’see, I heard a new story ‘bout the Maze. This one says the true solution isn’t at the center, but at the beginning. So that’s where I’m headin’, to the beginning of the Maze.” He paused, glancing up from beneath the brim of his hat. “I was hopin’ you’d come with.”

Octavius felt his breathing falter and his heart flutter in his chest. “Jedediah,” he murmured, his mind too overwhelmed to form a proper response.

“If...if ya don’t wanna…” Jedediah began, but he was swiftly cut off by Octavius walking forward and embracing him.

“Jedediah, beloved, there is nowhere I desire to be more than by your side,” Octavius proclaimed.

“Well alright then.” Jedediah swung them around and pulled out of the embrace to leap onto the back of his horse. “Let’s go!”

Octavius scrambled eagerly after him, only belatedly remembering that his men still stood by once he’d joined Jedediah on the horse.

“From now on, men, Marcus is in command,” Octavius ordered, knowing his second-in-command was capable enough to take over for him. He wrapped his arms securely around Jedediah’s waist and leaned close to the other man. “Farewell!”

Jedediah gave a joyful shout and the pair of them rode off together at last.

**Author's Note:**

> For the scenario that Octavius joins in Westworld, Jedediah is basically meant to serve as a guide for guests who want very tame experiences. He leads them away from areas where the more violent or sexual stuff happens.
> 
> In Romeworld, Octavius and his soldiers occasionally get pulled in for big events, but mainly they're there for when scenarios get rewritten to require military intervention.


End file.
